You walked around the house until you could find your mother. You saw her in the kitchen, washing dishes. She was humming peacefully as bubbles filled into the air.

You cringed at the thought of doing this to your mother, but it didn't seem like there was much choice. It was pretty much like blackmail except it would involved teen suicide which there had been enough of in the media. The thought of reporters filling around your house waiting to come and ask questions of how this could have been all prevented was a scary situation.

"Sorry mom," you mumbled as you pointed the device at her.